Book 1: Chapter 4

As I weep, I rage. As I rage, I shout. As I cry;

I wonder.

I wonder how my life will be later defined.

I wonder.

How I wish I could take back what was once mine.

I wonder.

How to escape this trap, before I fall to the edifices of time?

How I wonder.

'Tis a simple thing, the gift of belief.

But it did not stop him from wanting to leave,

And to hold on, as instinctively as wanting to breathe.

Death.

The last doorway for some, a new dawn for many.

How I wish I had the courage to let go, but I am already empty.

Pain.

How sad it is to fight, when the battle is already over.

But what choice is there?

I fight, while my doom crawls ever closer.

The hardest part about forgiveness is not receiving it from others, but allowing yourself to be absolved.

Forgive me...

Present day...

Swiftpaw awoke, wondering if his son's threat was for real. He went down for breakfast, and with a sigh of relief, he saw Buck and Melator sitting beside each other.

Buck animatedly was trying to lighten his friend's dark mood, while Melator stolidly ate, his face like stone as he stared straight ahead, acknowledging his friend with the barest of grunts or small nods.

Swiftpaw took his place at the head of the main table and tried to catch his son's eye. It was a futile effort, he knew, but he had to try at the very least. He had to try and make him understand his motives, why everything he did was for him in the end.

When enough hares had left to do their allotted duties, Swiftpaw left his all but empty plate and slowly moved toward his son, intent on telling him the truth.

Instead, his son stood up, and without another word or even a glance at his father, he left to go to the duelling pits. Buck followed, with a look of apology in his eyes as he glanced at his Badger Lord.

Swiftpaw nodded and sighed. He remembered very well what it was like, to be on the brink of such a momentous decision.

It had changed him forever.

Eighteen seasons previously...

A harsh scream emanated from the command tent, and all of the vermin nearby flinched at the sound.

"Unnatural he is," muttered a stoat as he turned the carcass of a bird over a small fire. Two weasels and one rat sat around him, their eyes flickering to him briefly as the bird sizzled, confirming it was almost ready.

"Now's th' time, lads," the rat whispered urgently as he nervously looked around himself, his face pale as he reassured himself they were the only ones close by.

One of the weasels gave the rat a quizzical look, but when he said nothing more he resumed his gazing upon the flickering flames.

The other weasel laughed bitterly, a great tub of a vermin whose three separate chins wobbled as he chuckled at his fellow vermin's naivety.

"Yew think now's the time, eh? Go on, brave warrior, heroically finish off th' warlord while he's writhin' in agony. Don't yew think there's guards round his tent, idjit? They could be listenin' t' yore ugly gob right now even."

Following the weasel's outburst, they all lapsed into a sullen silence as they all stared at the fire and the now well-cooked bird.

"Take it off, or there'll be nuthin left of it," the stoat interjected.

With a sigh, the rat ripped it off and tore off a chunk of the bird and stuffed it into his mouth, disregarding the pain as he sighed in contentment.

"Aaah, 'tis th' life, ain't it? Grub, good mates... nuthin would-"

"Shaddup," the fat weasel hissed as one of the Redwallers trundled past, eyes dulled over from pain and lack of sleep. They were all as still as the grave while the mouse moved towards the tent, the occupant of which had gone disturbingly quiet.

"Wot'd ye think that's for?" he rat asked, his face one of confusion as the tent flaps parted and the mouse stepped inside.

"I think th' mousie's is goin' t' find us a healer," the fat weasel whispered knowingly.

Without warning, the other weasel stood up and began walking away, quickly disregarding his former companions and their confused looks.

"Fools," Splitface hissed, ripping off his disguise and blending into the night.

The darkness called him, but Blythe had one more mission to complete. He forsook the temptation and awoke for the final time.

Blythe winced as the sunlight blinded him and groaned at the pain as it hit him like a ton of bricks.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light, but his vision still remained blurred. He breathed in and was surprised at the amount of effort it took. With a small shake of his head, he tried to gather the attention of anybeast close by. He did not have time to waste.

"Water," Blythe croaked as his vision cleared. Before him was his Badger Lord, the one creature that he needed to see.

Swiftpaw stood, his features a mix of anguish and rage. Blythe had heard the whispers before he left, of how incapable and unworthy he was in comparison to his father. These were only mutterings, but the fact that they existed in itself was worrying.

In truth, he had barely even seen Swiftpaw these last few seasons, and he had always remained one of those who did not complain. He would always maintain faith.

"Let me get that for you," the Badger Lord said softly.

With a swish of his cloak, Swiftpaw hurried away, off to do the labor that was never meant to be done by one of a badger's status, and Blythe reconsidered what he knew. Lord Swiftpaw had never been haughty, but he had definitely never been so... humble. To him at least, his Badger Lord had been one that was always aware of his station and of what his rank entailed. He never rubbed anybeast's noses in it, but both parties always knew.

Now... something had changed, and Blythe was unsure if this was a good thing.

A few moments later, Swiftpaw returned with one of his own personal goblets, which was filled with water. Blythe's eyes grew wide at the enormity of this gesture. Drinking out of this cup was reserved only for himself or others that he as the Badger Lord deemed worthy; and as far as he knew nobeast else had drunk from the goblet while Swiftpaw had reigned. He was the first.

"Please, let me help you with this," Swiftpaw said, holding the chalice gently to Blythe's lips. Blythe opened his mouth, and the Badger Lord slowly tipped his paw, allowing enough water to trick that Blythe could drink steadily, but not too much as to make him choke. At the first hint of Blythe wanting to pull back, Swiftpaw gently pulled the chalice back and placed it on the small night-table next to his bed.

"What I have done for you now is nothing in comparison to what I and many others owe you, Blythe. You have done a deed that should have been impossible for a healthy creature; yet you with your grievous wounds managed to complete it in only a few days. You will be remembered with gratitude and great respect, although I wish I could do more. You deserve more-" Swiftpaw cut himself off as he almost choked on his words, and a single tear trailed down his cheek. Blythe had never seen such sadness and anger before, and for a moment he just sat there, touched by his words.

"Now," Swiftpaw uttered, his tone neutral and his gaze so penetrating that Blythe fought the urge to close his eyes.

"What happened to you and my brave hares?"

Karth sat by the open window, staring at the vast emptiness that was the sand dunes. Whatever happened during his day, he could always end it by being at peace.

Karth did not know what to feel about the events that had occurred a few days earlier. Swiftpaw had emerged a different creature then the one he had recently been.

For the few seasons after the birth of Melator, an overall air of excitement had filled the mountain, and Karth had personally never known such a happy and prosperous period. That had changed after Swiftpaw had emerged from his chambers one day, the chambers only accessible by a badger and other legendary warriors that had proven themselves.

As far as he knew outside of Badger Lords, only Martin the Warrior had been worthy enough to go into the chamber, when he had went inside with Boar the Fighter. What had happened in the chambers that day only the two of them knew, but it was said that Martin's famous sword had been a product of their meeting.

Only in times of great need or wise council did a Badger Ruler go into those chambers, and everytime one would come out, something would... change. Every Badger Lord and Lady that wished it was laid to rest in those chambers, and only when a new ruler arrived did the recently deceased take his or her rightful place on their own throne.

When Swiftpaw had come out of those chambers, his change was to his detriment. Gone was the proud and graceful air that he had worn like a comfortable cloak. Instead he was quiet, elusive, and moody. Not even Maia had been able to talk him out of his moods, and as such, the mountain slowly changed. No longer was the mountain a happy place. It was as if somebeast had recently died, except they did not know who died as of yet.

A season had passed, and Karth had finally snapped when he had seen that the Badger Lord's place had gone empty for the third time in a row. He vaguely remembered stomping up the stairs, about to give Swiftpaw a piece of his mind, a creature he had loved like his own blood.

Any guards in his way had subsided their complaints at one look on his face. They had all stepped aside, and from a few knowing nods, they knew what was about to happen. Karth hadn't cared about what they thought. He was going to give his aid to someone who sorely needed it.

When he approached Swiftpaw's personal chambers, he saw that the door was ajar. Instantly, alarm bells went off in Karth's head, and he slowly made his way to the right side of the door and peeked in.

Inside was Swiftpaw, Lord of Salamandastron and the Western Shores, sobbing quietly as Melator watched him from his crib, his eyes wide.

Karth began to move away, far away from the door, until he heard Swiftpaw talking through his sobs, and he then moved in to listen better to what he was saying.

"Nothing I can do... so helpless... why bother to continue... to resist?" Karth stopped breathing for a moment as the implications of what his Lord was saying sunk in. He was dangerously close to giving up, and giving up for good.

Karth ached to go inside and help in anyway he could, but something in his gut told him not to. The feeling did not come often, but he had learned long ago to trust it.

He turned and walked away, ignoring the confused looks and gapes from his subordinates, and hoped that he had made the right decision.

Two seasons later, it appeared that whatever funk Swiftpaw had gone into, he had managed to claw out of it. After the interview with young Blythe, he had gone outside and had begun to train like a mad-beast, throwing himself completely into his training and not stopping until Maia had literally forced him to. This had gone on for a few days until suddenly he had not appeared for dinner.

Immediately, he had gone to Maia, and instead of the worried look that he was used to, it was one of hopefulness.

"He has made great strides in discovering who he really is," the Badger Lady said softly.

"We never knew him before?" Karth asked confusedly.

Maia's smile grew wider as she regarded Karth's puzzled look and nodded in satisfaction.

"He has grown more determined to do what's right; more firm in his own judgement. Swiftpaw is not the same badger he was a few days previously, and tomorrow you will know exactly what he is planning."

The words had pleased him greatly, and he had gone to finish his meal with his hares, who had grown far more respectful of him since the party he had thrown a few days previously.

However afterwards... something bothered him. He trusted Maia with his life, but he felt uneasy. Something was about to happen.

And he hoped that Swiftpaw was ready for the incoming storm.

With a sigh, Karth leaned back, happy to relax before whatever was going to happen would hit them. As he began to close his eyes to doze, he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye.

Disregarding it, he went to sleep, until suddenly he jerked awake, angry at himself as he realized what was happening.

A single vermin scout approached Salamandastron; and he bore the white flag of truce.

As Blythe finished his tale, Swiftpaw realized he had been holding his breath. He released it, shuddering as his emotions exacted their toll. The death and destruction that the young hare had witnessed was something no beast should ever see.

Even now, the battle was claiming its last victim as Blythe struggled to relay the last, crucial bits of his story. When he finished, his voice was little more than a whisper and his face had grown even paler.

Swiftpaw clasped the hare's paw and leaned in close. Blythe sat up a little, his gaze momentarily alert as he held on for a few moments more, intent on receiving his Badger Lord's message.

"You have done far beyond what is expected of you, and little of what I can say can in actuality mean much; except this. You and your brethren will be avenged, I swear it. Rest easy, warrior, go to death at peace with yourself and what you have accomplished. You will be remembered for all time as one of our greatest heroes."

Blythe nodded slightly, tears rolling down his face as he smiled for the last time. The smile seemed to erase all traces of worry and pain from his features; and with a momentary pause, he died.

Swiftpaw stood up, staring down at Blythe's body. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his right paw and put them over the scout's face. He closed Blythe's eyes and settled him into a more comfortable position. If one were to look at him from a distance, it would almost look like he was sleeping.

"He is sleeping," Swiftpaw snarled, his entire body shaking as he tried to fight the rage that threatened to overwhelm him.

"The same sleep that will soon claim our enemies."

At last, one of the scouts saw the newcomer and blew his horn, sounding the general alarm. The horn blasts echoed throughout the entire mountain, its three short notes notifying the arrival of a potential enemy.

An armed enemy.

Following protocol, everybeast dropped whatever they were doing and went to their assumed positions, waiting for their next commands with the excitement of warriors eager to kill, and to avenge.

Karth leapt up from his seat, already knowing exactly what was about to happen. Since he was nearly at the top of the mountain, he threw decorum out the window and ran down the stairs, throwing the entire staff into a general disarray, with some convinced that they were under attack.

"Follow me!" Karth barked, and his officers stopped what they were doing and followed him, content that he had a handle on the situation, as he nearly always did.

As he ran down the stairs, Karth noticed that it was not just his officers that seemed content to follow his lead, but everybeast else as well. Generally, he would allow somebeast else to take control in a situation like this, but lately he had been feeling far younger and more energetic; it just felt right.

In what seemed like a few moments, Karth found himself near the main door. He shoved outward and the doors flew open, and he winced as the twilight almost blinded him for a moment before he saw the vermin.

He was a foul, loathsome beast, decked out in earrings and tattoos, which spanned his entire body. The rat had a dagger strapped across his middle, along with a sword on each side. Karth could just barely make out the swords, and hissed as he realized that they were trophies recovered from the recent battle, with Striker's sword in the vermin's paw as he waited for Karth to approach him.

Taking a calming breath, Karth slowly walked towards the rat; whose features took on a vague sneer as he saw who was in command.

"Lissen here, Grandpa, bring out the Badger and we can get to the real discussion- urk!"

The vermin was silenced as Karth held his sword to the rat's throat, his paw quivering as he fought to keep himself from slitting the vermin's throat.

"Say what you have come here to say and leave," Karth uttered, every syllable spat out as his grip on his blade tightened.

The rat's sneer deepened, and he opened his mouth to retort but stopped with a slight frown at the expression on Karth's face.

"Fine," the rat muttered, slowly drawing back from Karth's weapon and carefully drawing out a piece of parchment from his side.

An insidious smile spread across the rat's face as he began to read from the parchment, and Karth could only gape at what the rat said.

"Swiftpaw of Salamandastron and his underlings, I bring you my humble greetings. Please give my messenger whatever hospitality you can provide, as Blackcut has travelled very far to deliver this message to you. I take credit for the destruction of your Patrol, and I will take credit for any more that dare trespass into Mossflower, as it is as of now under my complete and total authority. Redwall is mine, and there is nothing you can do to save it. If you try to help Redwall or to reinforce it in anyway, I will bring about the same deaths as I did to your hares: through decapitation, maiming, slitting of their-"

"ENOUGH!" A voice boomed, and everybeast listening turned as the main doors smashed open to reveal Swiftpaw in all of his rage. In his right paw was his sword and in his left was his sceptre, something he brought out only in times of celebration or rituals. One look at Swiftpaw's face was enough to reveal which Swiftpaw what had just been doing, and Karth found himself smiling for what felt like the first time in years. It looked and felt feral but he did not care. Not as he once did.

"You dare enter my mountain and utter threats to me and my hares? You think you have the right to desecrate the flag of peace and the bodies of our dead? You think you have the strength to resist an enraged Salamandastron? You think... that you have won?!"

As Swiftpaw approached the rat, the vermin drew his sword, the blade that had belonged to Striker. This proved to be a mistake, as Swiftpaw slapped the rat's paw aside and grabbed him by the neck, choking him and slamming him into the front wall; and his legs dangled a few feet from the ground as Swiftpaw roared in his face.

"You think you can challenge me and my own? If i do not manage to destroy you and your kin, my son will take up my mantle and finish the job. All of those who align with you- you are all walking deadbeasts!"

Swiftpaw turned back towards the crowd, lifting up the rat whose face was turning blue, and threw him like a discarded rag. The rat crumpled to the ground outside of the front gates and lay there not moving, barely breathing as Lord Swiftpaw turned again towards the crowd and shouted towards them all.

"I am the Lord of the Salamandastron and the Western Shores, and I swear upon my title and my life that the lives of the hares and the creatures that the Fox has slaughtered and duly stolen shall be avenged!"

Swiftpaw lifted his sword and sceptre as the amassed crowd of hares roared their approval and stomped their feet; and this time Karth joined them, tears streaming down his face as he saw the Badger Lord that he always dreamed of, the badger that Swiftpaw had always had the potential to be.

Swiftpaw stood there, his face shining and his tribal markings dancing in the twilight as he soaked in the shouts and applause from his hares. After a minute, he raised his paws for silence when he realized that the applause would not stop.

"Lady Maia will take two squadrons of our finest hares and root out the Fox, or die in the attempt! I will stay here to help train our forces and to prepare our defences if she does not succeed wholeheartedly in rooting out this evil!"

Karth looked at his leader and discovered who he now was. Capable, deadly and compassionate. Qualities that he had long strove to cultivate and things that he had hoped would surface in Swiftpaw; attributes that had been lying dormant but had now awoken.

Slowly, Karth raised his sword in the air, its edge pointed toward the half moon. As he did this, everybeast around him did the same, and soon everybeast was standing still, arms pointed towards the sky in a vast array of death as Swiftpaw swung his gaze to Karth's.

With a smile, Swiftpaw raised his sword, his sceptre lying at his side. Karth noticed movement at the corner of his eye and saw it was Maia, her lance held up in one fist, her eyes full of contentment as she too waited.

Swiftpaw's gaze switched from Karth towards his mate, and he smiled a special, intimate smile: a secretive look that only creatures that understand each other perfectly read.

Finally, he drew a deep breath and shouted the famous battle-cry of Salamandastron as loudly as he could. In tears, Karth shouted it as well, along with the other hares and Lady Maia.

Their shouts echoed off of the rock and into the far countryside, where all who could listen heard and reported what they heard to others. Soon the news would spread across the entire area, that Salamandastron was gathering its forces to march, to wage war on the vermin who had inflicted such a grievous defeat.

As Karth shouted, he reflected on who he was, as a creature of Salamandastron and as a sworn hare of the Long Patrol."To defend the weak and to protect the innocent; to show no mercy upon our sworn foes and to mourn our fallen comrades. As a Hare of Salamandastron and a sworn defender of these ideals, I vow to uphold these oaths and to uphold them always. Forever am I bound to this pledge, and forever shall I be remembered. Let our banners fly as our enemies bleed, and let us celebrate while we are still among the living!"

Karth smiled as he remembered the last word of the pledge, the word that he was shouting now, with hundreds of others. As the shouting began to die down, he took another deep breath and shouted, unable to let the moment end.

"EULALIAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"When will I be able to resume my normal activities?" Dusktail asked, gritting his teeth as he shifted his damaged paw. "How long do you think I can afford to lie here drinking your foul brews?"

Silvia paused in her examination of Dusktail's mended paw, raising an eyebrow at the warlord. "How much time can you afford to lose if you get sick or injured again because you didn't heed my advice?"

Dusktail grumbled under his breath, glaring at the vixen for a moment before settling back down without complaining further. Silvia smiled to herself.

It had been only a few moons since she had first stepped off a boat, sent from her homeland at the behest of her sponsor to help the Warlord enact his plans… and to ensure that he stayed on task. So far, the white-furred fox could state that Dusktail's plans were coming along magnificently, despite his wounding and subsequent illnesses, although one of his plans in particular made her anxious. Dusktail's stares had become increasingly audacious as of late, and she did not want to even think of what that could possibly mean for the both of them.

Silvia was about to tease him for grumbling like a kit, but she found her eyes drawn to Dusktail's.

"He trusts me," Silvia realized and nearly frowned when the realization caused her stomach to tighten slightly.

Giving herself a mental swat, she stood, pasting on a smirk as she leaned over the Warlord, whose own face was also showing hints of a warm smirk. After another moment, Silvia decided to have mercy on the wounded fox and decided to answer his question.

"You will be able to resume your plans when I deem you able, my Lord. I will not allow my hard work to go to waste when I am far away and unable to be of service to your greatness."

Dusktail snorted at his healer's candor before turning his scrutiny to one of her own attendants. "Fetch me Splitface," he ordered, and Silvia noted that the warmth that she had seen was gone, replaced by a cold veneer that suggested an entirely different creature lived behind those brown eyes.

Oddly, Silvia found she wasn't afraid.

Waiting an acceptable amount of time after the attendant had left the tent, Silvia bowed her head and moved to leave, but she was stopped when Dusktail spoke again.

"Stay. I wish for you to listen to our discussion – and your services may soon be needed once again."

The vixen bit back a laugh before it started. As she did so, she observed the smirk that momentarily appeared on Dusktail's face once again, before it slid back into remote stillness.

The implications were troubling, but before Silvia could ponder the injured fox's actions further, Splitface arrived, looking curiously at Silvia before turning to the Warlord.

Silvia watched Dusktail's eyes narrow at the impudence of his captain. She had seen the faint suggestion of a power struggle between the two in public, but this was the first time that it was so overt. Normally, all that came in contact with Dusktail were supposed to at least bow, but Splitface had walked in as if he had little care in the world.

Silvia subtly moved to the side of the tent, intent on discerning the dynamics between the two, who were still staring at each other silently. It was as if they moments away from squaring off in The Ring, one of the things that Dusktail had added to the camp keep passions down before the flared out of control, which was still not an uncommon occurrence with how many creatures there were here.

Finally, Splitface smiled, his expression sour as he lowered his head mockingly, deciding seemingly that while Dusktail was weakened, he was not by any means incapacitated. A wise move, if a disappointing one.

"Begin," Dusktail said softly and with a touch of imperiousness, holding himself up with no indication of the pain that he was doubtlessly feeling. Inwardly, Silvia nodded at the Warlord's poise. It was obvious that the two of them would eventually fight, but his grace in victory had postponed that day, at least for a while.

"Warlord," Splitface began, his voice impassive as he outlined what he had managed to accomplish while Dusktail had been recovering from his wound. "The issue of the captured Dibbuns has been resolved. They have been set to work maintaining the camp, and our plan proceeds as scheduled. Redwall has attempted on more than one occasion to speak to us, demanding to know what we want with their young, but we rebuffed them as you requested."

"Good," Dusktail said with a nod, all traces of distain wiped from his face and replaced with an intensity that Silvia found intriguing. There were definitely things that he had done so far that she did not agree with, but nobeast was faultless, and his willingness to lead had never been an issue.

"Your forces are becoming tired of waiting," Splitface said, sounding bored. "And I cannot help but notice that the other officers are voicing the same sentiments. They are beasts of action and are unused to such a length of inactivity. What is your next plan?"

"The Dibbuns will be released shortly," Dusktail said tersely. He suddenly lifted his injured paw, bringing it to Splitface's attention with a harsh imitation of a smile. "You will now address me as Barkclaw, as Dusktail is dead. In his place is a fox who is not nearly as forgiving as before. Do you understand this, my friend?"

The not-so veiled threat partially conveyed by Dusktail's repaired paw had skillfully distracted Splitface from the most important thing that Dusktail had said – or had left unspoken. The emotion in Dus- no, Barkclaw's eyes as he spoke of the Dibbuns was not so easily hidden from those who had been specifically trained to look for the subtlest of change in a creature's body language or voice. That he was so concerned for the Dibbuns was strange and bore further investigation in the future.

"I understand perfectly, my lord Barkclaw," Splitface said with a bow, his eyes flickering away to the sharpened stakes of wood at the end of the fox's paw.

"Very good," Barkclaw said with a sniff, carefully placing his paw back on his leg as he nodded towards the tent flap.

"Go now, and prepare my forces. Salamandastron has sent us a welcoming party, and it would be remiss of us if we weren't there to greet them."

"My lord," Splitface said, his ruined face tearing into a lopsided grin as he inclined his head respectfully and left, his grey cloak fluttering behind him.

The moment his captain left, Barkclaw turned back to Silvia and smiled, becoming Dusktail once again.

"You were examining my paw before I interrupted you?" he said softly.

Silvia sighed in exasperation, but still found herself moving to examine his paw and other vitals. "What, did you bring him in just so you could impress me?" Silvia said idly, not really expecting an answer.

"And if I did?" Barkclaw replied, looking as serious as he ever had.

"Then you wasted your time," Silvia said sternly, placing his paw back to its former position before stepping back to bow, leaving the tent with her silent aides before he could respond.